Little Dog

When my dog does that thing and she stares far off in space. I wonder what she sees just then; a ghost? a friend or foe. Then she rolls her eyes that way looks deep into my own. I wonder if she reads my thoughts; my soul, and what she sees. Sometimes when she’s sleeping fast, she yips and yelps and runs. Her little feet they patter quick, tread softly on the air. I wonder what she’s dreaming of — and what it is she sees. A friend met in another life, a ghost, a mutt or me? A rabbit? hen? or God.